40 years ago
End-of-the-year 1968 still found Editor Claude Walker’s column entrenched in Retroland. Number three son and wife were leaving for a new life in Florida, and a farewell party was taking place at Homer’s Restaurant on Madison. It was one of the worst years for our country – Vietnam, assassinations, student unrest and rebellion, political upheaval – the works. It was too much for some people, and maybe Ye Olde Editor found that clinging to the wreckage of a safe, more secure past was easier than dealing with the changing “then.”
Walker’s column, “Personal Observations,” dealt with his observations at the party – a personal comparison piece matching what he called the exemplary behavior of the young people present at Homer’s with what the reader could only guess was the riffraff majority. Terms got tossed fast and loose – like “hippies and yippies” going on marches, sit-ins (this is unlawful?) and robbing busses. (Robbing busses?)
Sensational newspapers, he said, would have you believe that free love and [a] conspicuous sex life are “in” and taking baths and showers are out. He then compared the dancing of the wicked ’60s with “gliding” on the ballroom floor to the music of Wayne King, Jan Garber and Paul Whiteman. “Music,” he said, “that stirred your heart instead of your muscles.” (Oops, I nearly stirred a muscle.) All in all, a silly column even then outdated, drenched in judgment and signifying nothing.
From the Dec. 12, 1968, Forest Park Review
30 years ago
Abraham Lincoln was not without his credentials as a philosopher. This from the Nov. 15, 1978, Review:
You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.
You cannot further the brotherhood of man by encouraging class hatred.
You cannot establish sound security on borrowed money.
You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than you earn.
You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves.
From the Nov. 15, 1978, Forest Park Review
20 years ago
Lest he be forgotten – a memorial ceremony was held at the village hall six years after a young Forest Park policeman had been killed in the line of duty. Michael Caulfield died in a senseless shootout at the police station lockup. In the early morning hours of Sept. 30, 1982, a suspect he helped bring in somehow pulled a revolver from another policeman’s holster and began shooting wildly. In the chaos of the moment, Caulfield, 23, and only three weeks on the force, was fatally shot in the head. During the turmoil his training officer, Sgt. Jim McNally, miraculously escaped death or serious injury when another bullet fired by the subject ricocheted off his badge. McNally then fired the final, fatal bullet that killed the killer.
The remembrance also marked the renaming of the Forest Park F.O.P to the Michael Caulfield Fraternal Order of Police. The tribute included the placing of Caulfield’s badge in a special case for permanent public viewing along with those of two other Forest Park police who met their death on duty decades before. The dedication was attended by the young policeman’s parents, family, friends, colleagues and the public.
From the Oct. 26, 1988, Forest Park Review
10 years ago
Lips Together, Teeth Apart concluded a well-received run at Circle Theatre. By this time Circle was coming well into its own, and Forest Park’s only ongoing, live, professional venue for drama and musicals had established itself among the newer, more interesting small Chicagoland theaters. It had already won an impressive number of Jefferson Awards. Lips was a funny and touching play that explored the inner and expressed thoughts of four intertwined lives during a fun and conflict-filled holiday weekend at a small, New England beach house.
From the Dec. 22, 1998, Forest Park Review